


hyacinth

by humanveil



Series: the language of flowers [16]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: She’s never done well with jealousy.





	hyacinth

_hyacinth —_

_sincerity; jealousy; rashness._

 

 

Villanelle has a plan. Slow and steady, each action a calculated effort. She will have Eve. Will win this little game of theirs—no ifs, no buts. Her strategy one that’s impossible to beat. 

Too bad she’s never done well with jealousy. 

They’re in a shop, a Polish clothing store. Not far from the Lithuanian border. She’s been following Eve, has been tracking her footprint. Keeping an eye on her work around the Twelve. All from a distance, of course. Far enough away that she won’t get caught, but not  _too_  far. Close enough that she can still watch her. That she can still do this: stand, hidden in plain sight, and watch as Eve rummages through piles of fabric. Searches for whatever new jumper she needs to replace today. 

It feels an awful lot like Berlin. 

The comment is in passing, the man’s broken English quiet enough that Villanelle almost misses it. But she doesn’t, the poor excuse of a pick-up line trailing to where she stands and having an immediate effect. Anger sweeps through her; rage and adrenaline mixing together and taking control. 

She acts before she thinks. Barely hears Eve’s polite rejection before she’s walking toward her, is grabbing hold of Eve’s elbow and yanking her forward. Pulling her inside a vacant dressing room and shutting the curtain behind them. 

Eve’s back hits the wall. Villanelle can hear the sharp intake of breath as she steps forward, as she plants both hands on the mirror either side of Eve. She looks down, meets Eve’s eye, but there is no surprise on Eve’s face. No shock like Villanelle had envisioned. 

Instead, Eve’s mouth is twitching. The expression a shadow of a smirk. “I saw you two days ago,” she says. “I wondered when you would act.” 

Villanelle blinks. Can feel frustration bubble inside her: red hot and irritating. She steps closer, still, so their bodies are almost pressed together. Breathes quietly, her breath hot and heavy as it ghosts across Eve’s skin. 

“And you didn’t say hello?” she says, her voice tinged with sarcasm. There’s a knife hidden away in her back pocket, and if it were anyone else, Villanelle would use it. She’s stupid not to. 

“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed,” Eve says, and it’s a lie. And they both know it’s a lie. 

Villanelle laughs anyway, the sound airy and almost inaudible. “Did you think I was going to kill you?” she asks, and she can hear when Eve swallows, can see the movement of her throat. 

Eve stares at her. Doesn’t blink. “Aren’t you?” she asks quietly. Refuses to look away, to back down. 

The words make Villanelle grin: quick and fleeting, the expression fading as she leans in. Takes in the smell of Eve’s perfume, her shampoo. They breathe the same air as she answers, her lips grazing the surface of Eve’s when she whispers, “Not yet.” 

It’s followed by a kiss, by Villanelle pressing her mouth against Eve’s with the force only months of restraining herself can culminate. Eve doesn’t fight it, but she doesn’t melt underneath her, either. She matches her, pressure for pressure. Brings her hands to Villanelle’s waist and takes hold, untucks her shirt and slips a hand beneath the hem to trail across warm flesh, down to where the stab wound has started to heal. Her nails scratch the skin lightly, and it’s the only warning Villanelle gets before Eve is pressing against the cut. Is digging a nail in and making her pull back with a gasp, the noise half pained, half pleased. 

Villanelle looks at her, wide eyed and surprised, but not angry, not upset, not this time. She grins again, feral this time, and leans back in. This kiss a much more brutal version: all teeth and tongue and suppressed emotion. 

It’s hot, urgent, rushed. Only scratches the surface of everything Villanelle has been fantasising about, everything she craves. But it’s enough, for now. More than.

When Villanelle leaves, it’s with a light kiss to the spot beneath Eve’s ear and a murmured, “Buy the red one.”

They both know they’ll see each other again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos = ♡♡♡
> 
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